Leather Strap
by bleedforyou
Summary: Harry is ready. Draco is awe-struck... slash. sex. oneshot. fluff. rimming. ewe. My danceclub!fic! :D


**Title:**Leather Strap  
**Author:****bleedforyou1****  
****Pairing:**harry/draco. Cuz they're my bitches ;)  
**Rating:**NC-17 not jokin'  
**Beta:****thepretender501** who is so FREAKIN' awesome  
**Summary:**Harry is _ready._Draco is awe-struck.  
**Word count:** 1,817  
**Warnings:**slash. sex. rimming. language. SHAMLESS PWP.  
**Note:** Um. This is for **brinimc**, who is just plain amazingness. seriously. Aaaand yeah- this fic was written/edited/posted in like, less than a few hours. So, if you see any mistakes-blame that on my brain exploding. This fic kinda melted me ;) 

Harry was _ready_.

Staring into the mirror with a defiant look on his face, he flexed for a bit, trying to get his confidence up as far as he could. Reaching over, he grabbed a bottle of the new MagicYourHair gel that George had invented and made millions of galleons off of. Squirting some in his hand, Harry sifted his hand through his hair and watched as it glowed for a second before rearranging itself into the perfect just-got-shagged look.

"Harry, did you send the letter to—Merlin's pants!" Hermione came in, gaping at Harry.

Turning, he smirked and put his hands on his hips. "You think I look all right?"

Her jaw opened and closed for a few minutes. "Okay? I think you look—excuse my language—but you look fucking fantastic!"

Harry chuckled, nervously tugging at the leather strap he had tied around his neck. "I hope it's okay. He said he liked edgy blokes, and this is edgy, yeah?"

"Edgy, sexy-as-hell, pick whichever adjective you want." Hermione shrugged. "I hate bets, but I can gamble on Draco keeping you in his bedroom for the rest of his life when he sees you like this."

"Hermione!" Harry blushed, flicking a glance back at the mirror. "I just want him to see that there's more to me than what he thinks. We've been friends for what—two years now? Hopefully I can get him to see me in a different light tonight."

"Or no lights tonight." Hermione laughed. "You're meeting him at Club Crooked?"

"Yeah." Harry shrugged. "He said he wanted to see what the 'hottest Muggle gay club inLondon' looks like. I'm sick of seeing him dance with other blokes, and tonight I hope he'll only dance with me."

"Well, good luck then. Not that you'll need it, looking like that."

"Thanks." Harry grinned. "I'm going to get him tonight, Hermione. He's finally going to be mine."

Sighing, Draco tapped his foot to the beat and drank his Scotch. His eyes flickered over the dance floor, surveying some of the hottest gay men. It was good to get out of the Wizarding clubs—it seemed like everyone was so _done_. Cliché and boring.

Harry had decided they should meet at the bar, but the man was nowhere in sight. It wasn't that unusual, considering his Auror partner really was never on time, and that annoyed Draco to no end. Out of everything that annoyed him of Potter though, he really couldn't say he minded being his partner. In fact, he rather loved it.

Over the last two years, they had fought, bickered, trusted and bonded with each other in a way that Draco couldn't find with anyone else. However, it was quickly turning into something that Draco had to shut himself off from. He couldn't fall for Potter—he just couldn't. It would lead to problems in their partnership; and, who knew if Harry even liked _him_? No, it was better to just be friends and not have to face rejection.

Looking down at his watch, Draco rolled his eyes. Harry was 15 minutes late—which was too much of Draco's precious time to waste. Putting his glass on the bar, he dropped a few galleons and winked at the cute bartender before standing up and heading down to the dance-floor.

After a few songs of heavy dancing, Draco was lost in the music and in the arms of one really sexy brunette who had this amazing way of pulling Draco back onto his groin. It was delicious, but not quite as good as it should be. Something was missing, but Draco shrugged it off, trying to enjoy the beat of the music and the lithe arms around him.

Suddenly, the arms were gone. Draco turned in surprise, ready to bitch the idiot out for leaving him in the middle of a good song.

"What the—" Draco stopped mid-sentence and nearly creamed his pants, right there in the middle of the dance-floor. Without even being touched.

Fuck. If it wasn't for the scar on his forehead and the shiny green eyes, Draco wouldn't even have _known_ it was him.

Harry stood there, staring at Draco while everyone else danced around them in a blur in Draco's peripheral vision. Draco's eyes flickered down and he decided to start the show from the bottom.

Harry was wearing leather boots—and damn if the shiny black didn't make him look delicious. Above them were dark washed denims that hung low on his hips and tight in certain areas. A strip of the man's dark green boxers nearly made Draco's eyes cross until he looked up still.

He wore no shirt—Harry Potter was shirtless! It wasn't _too_ odd at Club Crooked, considering a man had shown up in nothing but his underwear and sunglasses. However, Harry had gotten plenty of men to stop dancing and they were now staring at him with glazed eyes, just like Draco was doing.

Even though he wore no shirt, Potter had a strap of black leather tied around his neck, and black leather gloves to match.

"Draco? You okay?" Harry smirked—smirked! Potter!—and Draco couldn't find his voice.

But he could definitely find his hands. His arms reached out of their own accord and wrapped themselves firmly around Harry's waist, pulling the rest of Draco's body along with them.

"Oh. Okay, we're dancing then." Harry chuckled low in Draco's ear.

"Not dancing. We're not dancing. I need to cover you up. Look at all of them staring at you—" Draco muttered, wrapping his body around Harry's.

"What's that? You'll have to speak louder—I can't hear you through the music," Harry was saying.

"Fuck this joint," Draco growled, pulling at Harry's hand. Draco led them off the dance-floor and down the hall where he pushed several men away. They went straight for the loo and Draco looked around to make sure no one was watching as he Apparated them away.

Letting go of Draco, Harry stepped back in surprise, seeing himself in Draco's flat.

"What the hell? Draco!" Harry turned and looked back at Draco, who was staring at him like he was…well, like he was dressed like he was.

But Draco, in Harry's eyes, looked a hell lot better. He was wearing a tight black shirt that really glimmered against his pale skin and light blue denims that looked tight against his tall legs. His hair even glittered and damn—he was wearing the eyeliner. Harry always got an instant hard-on when Draco wore eyeliner. He was staring at Draco mesmerized in the club, when suddenly Draco had brought him back to his flat.

"What the hell were you thinking? Coming to the club dressed like—like that!" Draco spluttered.

"What do you mean, what was I thinking? It's a gay club. A place to pick up men? I'm gay and looking to pick up men. Aren't you supposed to be attractive-looking when doing that?"

Draco was pacing the floor, but staring at Harry at the same time, so he looked kind of demented and his cheeks were flushed. Harry _really_ wanted to know what was going on in his head.

"You're attractive enough without all _that_ going on! How dare you go in and look like that?"

"How dare _I_ look like this? What the hell, Draco?" Now Harry was not only confused, but he was frustrated by Draco's cryptic responses as well.

"Yeah, what the _hell_? So sinful!" Draco shook his head, and started to advance on Harry, who backed up nervously at the sight of the evil glint in Draco's eyes.

"What is going _on_?" Harry asked, backing up so much that he was against a wall. Draco suddenly placed his hands against the wall, trapping Harry.

"You can't go to the club looking like that because I will personally rip the skin off of any man who sees you like this. I've been lusting after you for two years, and I am hard as fuck right now. Now do you see what's going _on_, Potter?"

"Why didn't you _say_ anything? I did all of this for _you_! Do you think I have any other reason to go half-naked to a gay club? I don't want any of those guys—I want you!"

"Fucking hell," Draco cursed, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Harry's.

"Draco?" Harry asked nervously. "Are you okay?"

"Give me a minute—" Draco broke off and took a deep breath, his eyes still closed. "You have_no idea_ how much you just put my cock through."

"Your cock hasn't gone through anything. Or at least, I haven't felt it yet." Harry smirked.

Draco blinked his eyes open, and in the next second, their lips met in a crash and it actually kind of hurt Harry, but damn was it _worth_ it. Finally, Harry was kissing Draco and he could feel his hardness rubbing against Draco's and it was so… perfect.

"I can't believe we waited this long," Harry murmured, pushing Draco back. They stumbled, and Draco tripped over the coffee table, sending them both down to the floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Harry sat up, straddling Draco. "Are you okay?

"Not okay. I'm perfect." Draco growled, pulling Harry back down.

Harry moaned as he pulled off Draco's shirt and felt hands gripping his arse.

"Harry…" Draco's head fell back as they rutted against each other like mindless horny men—which they were—and Harry gritted his teeth as he looked down at Draco.

"This leather strap," Harry gasped as he rolled his hips down and leaned down to bite the side of Draco's neck. "It's my version of a collar. Because you own me, Draco."

"Fuck," Draco whimpered. "Yes! Oh, more—you're mine."

Harry couldn't believe it—Draco was writhing and gasping underneath him and they're clothes weren't even fully off! They were frotting and moaning and Harry loved every second of it.

Draco woke up to an amazing feeling—he gasped and moaned as he felt a small licks and bites on his arse. Raising his head from the pillow, he blinked around the dark room and then clenched his eyes shut when he felt a hot tongue slither between his arse cheeks.

"Harry!" Draco panted, clutching at the bed sheets underneath him. "What? Woah—"

"Up on your knees, sweetheart."

Draco scrambled to his knees stretching his whole body to lean backwards into Harry's face. He _loved_ a good rimming, and apparently Harry was a god at it.

"This is just a reminder—your arse is mine now." Harry chuckled before wriggling his tongue deeper.

"Yours," Draco moaned. He suddenly gasped when he felt something smooth and tight tie around his cock.

Damn, but Harry Potter was the only one who could turn Draco Malfoy into a quivering, sweating mess with nothing but a leather strap.


End file.
